This Ain't Goodbye
by sliceofperfection
Summary: She was the first woman he ever loved and he was the only man she could never have. No matter where and who they built their new lives with, their paths continue to cross over the years.
1. Chapter 1

**I know I really shouldn't be started _another _fanfiction, but ideas just keep coming to me. So this is loosely inspired by the lyrics in the Train song "This Ain't Goodbye." I would recommend a listen just because it's fantastic hah. Also a few words about this fic. First of all, it's a set a few years in the future from the current canon timeline in GA and PrP. Both Mark and Addison are in serious relationships with other people, but they find their lives still intersecting. This chapter has brief Maddison moments in it and focuses more on their internal dialogues. Anyway, let me know if you think this is worth continuing or it'll be better left as a one-shot. Thanks my faithful readers! You guys will seriously rock! I love hearing your feedback and as always if you need any questions answered feel free to shoot them my way. Happy reading! **

* * *

><p><em>"You and I were friends from outer space, <em>_afraid to let go_

_The only two who understood this place, __as far as we know."_

"You've got mail," She tells him in her sweet voice. Precariously leaning over the back of the couch she dangles the envelope in front of his face.

"I always have mail," He grumbles from his comfortable position on the couch not taking his eyes from the Giants game playing on the TV screen. He may live with her in Seattle but his fidelity for New York hasn't wavered no matter how much time has passed since he left. She's commented on this before but he mutely takes her harmless teasing in stride.

There's a lot about his former life she would never understand. No matter how much distance and time is placed between his past self and the Mark Sloan she adores, the events that transpired in the buzzing city are too complex for her to handle. She's a simple girl with a giving heart. He likes to think he's better because of her. At least that's what he tells himself in order to hold off the guilt for thinking about another pretty redhead from time to time.

He senses her distress when she remains rooted on the spot, light green eyes studying him. "Just..." Mark turns his face upward and jerks his head in the direction of the bin on the kitchen counter they reserved for incoming messages. "…put it over there, I'll get to it after the game."

This seems to appease her because she grins at him and kisses the side of his face, "Ok. I'm going to lay down for a bit."

His ears perk up at the insinuation in her tone and he grins broadly, "To sleep?"

Her pale lips twist to the side of her face and Julia tells him coyly, "At least give me until the game ends before you join me."

Mark chuckles in amusement by her attempt to refine him. He pulls her face towards his and plants a meaningful kiss against her lips. She giggles until her nose scrunching up.

Julia tiredly moves down the hall of his apartment to the bedroom they now share.

"I'll come for you around dinner time," He calls out to her.

"Sounds perfect," She returns brightly before slipping behind a closed door.

* * *

><p>"Addison?" He calls out uncertainly.<p>

"In the study," She returns plainly from the room to his immediate right. Her gaze doesn't waver from the computer screen, brow intensely furrowed and lips slanting downward in concentration.

"I come bearing gifts," He announces a bag of Chinese food rustling as he lifts it for her to see.

This instantly strikes her interest, her large blue eyes dancing with hunger and a sly smirk crossing her lips. She pulls the red-framed glasses off the bridge of her nose before gliding from behind the desk and meeting him in the foyer of their beach house.

Wrapping her arms around his neck she leans forward to steal a much-needed kiss. He grins at her crookedly when she pulls away and stares up at him with that dazzling glint in her eye. "Have I told you how much I love you lately?" She muses with a half smirk.

"Yes," He inclines his head, "but I have a feeling you're about to tell me you love me now just because I brought you Chinese food."

She giggles and rolls her eyes at him. They release their hold on each other and move towards the kitchen to replace the cardboard boxes with dinner plates and cutlery, a habit he found to be very odd.

There was something about her association with Chinese food he didn't understand. She would eat Indian or Mexican straight from the plastic containers, and rarely placed a slice of pizza on her pristinely white plates. But her orange chicken and brown rice had to be arranged in a somewhat elegant manner that didn't seem to fit the concept of how a normal individual eats takeout.

He dishes out a generous portion size for her before doing the same for himself. Addison sticks her fork into a piece of chicken and shoves the huge chunk in her mouth. She groans in pure pleasure at the taste causing Jake to chuckle amusingly at her.

"Good?"

"Fantastic," She corrects with a mouthful of food.

They dig into their meal and find they are too busy satisfying their hunger for real conversation. Then Jake tells her in between bites, "So I had an interesting conversation with your brother today?"

Her face falls a bit, "Oh God. What did he tell you? Was he rude to you? I'm sorry he can be such an ass sometimes. Especially to all the good guys I-"

"Addison," He interjects softly. It's his way of telling her she's rambling on nervously and jumping to conclusions before he can tell her what really happened.

She lowers her gaze, "Sorry." Swallowing she glances up again, "What did you two talk about?"

"As I was saying, he called me today and wants to meet the…" He pauses to collect the exact wording, "…son of a bitch who's bound to break his little sister's heart."

Addison brings a hand to cover half her face, "Oh God."

Jake merely smiles across the table at her, "Relax. He's just protective of you."

"Yeah, more than he should be." She grumbles half-heartedly, shooting him a sympathetic smile.

Jake takes her hand, his thumb caressing the band on her finger, "Well that's something he and I already have in common."

* * *

><p>He stares at the white 5 x 8" sheet of white paper accented by a wine colored bow. A diamond with two stenciled hearts linked together inside is printed across the top and below all the décor her name loops the entire width of the invitation. A multitude of thoughts swim through his mind, words and emotions he still can't completely understand consume him.<p>

It doesn't matter her name is being used in conjunction with another man's. All that matters is she sent it to him. This fact unsettles him more than it probably should given he's with someone else. He wonders if her sending it stirred something similar in her. He wonders if this other man, Jake Riley (he rereads the name that is unrecognizable), knows who he is to her. He wonders if she truly loves this Jake guy. And he wonders if she's finally found the happiness he could never offer her despite his best intentions. _He wonders if…_

"So I just dropped Sofia off at daycare."

His head snaps up. He notices Callie now standing in his office. He see's her mouth moving and pretends to listen. But the only thing that runs through his mind is a certain redhead with sun kissed skin and blue green eyes that are deeper shades of indigo when she's in distress, which is why he pretends they are perpetually green.

She doesn't fly away from his thoughts until Callie's waving a hand in front of his vacant eyes, "Hello? Mark?"

He jumps, shaking his head in order to focus. "Sorry, what about Sofia?"

Callie reiterates firmly, "Would you mind taking her until Saturday? Arizona and I kind of have crazy schedules and with her parents coming into town we need some time to clean and stuff."

Mark nods and answers abruptly, "Of course. That's fine."

"Are you ok?" She lifts a brow, concern pervading her tone.

"Yeah," He answers too quickly for it to be believable.

"Right," Callie slowly nods with an air of disbelief. She watches his gaze drops back onto the white sheet paper tightly held between his fingers. "What is that?"

His eye meets hers and he replies with another question, "Have you talked to Addison recently?"

Her expression changes and her lips purse into a tight line as she approaches the question cautiously, "Uh we exchanged kid photos a couple of weeks ago through e-mail, but I would hardly call that talking."

"So you didn't know she was getting married?" He flashes the card for her to see.

Callie blinks, "To Jake?" Her guess is confirmed when she reads the fancy invitation. She tosses on his desk, "No I didn't know that."

A sort of tense silence descends upon them. Neither one of them really knows what to say about this newfound information they've uncovered. She fully knows Mark and Addison and everything else in between them. But she hardly approves of whatever this invitation implies. Mark means more to her now than Addison ever could due to Sofia.

And he can easily piece this together based on her disapproving look and defensive stance. But he's still consumed by dreams of red hair and stilettos clicking against the hospital floor. He needs advice and it seems she's one of the few people who is qualified to give it. Still he hesitates from uttering the one question he needs an answer to.

Callie clears her throat, "Are you…are you going to go?"

He frowns up at her and shrugs, "I don't know. You think it might be weird?"

"I think it'd be weirder if you didn't go."

Mark knits his brow together even more confused.

She sighs with a weary smile as if the subject of Addison and Mark has been brought up so many times before there's really no way to put things politely. "Look Mark, you know what will happen if you don't go. You'll both wonder why and think about it until you find some obscure meaning behind it all. Then one of you will call the other and…someone will get hurt. You won't mean for it to happen, but it will." She shifts her weight, "But if you go and you see how happy she is with Jake. And she sees how happy you are with Julia…maybe you'll get the closure you both need. Maybe this is your chance to finally say goodbye."

* * *

><p>The months leading up until the wedding are more stressful than she remembers from the first time around. But luckily for her, Jake is more enthusiastic about selecting the reception hall, the cake (white with raspberry filling), music (classic rock band), and food (Italian cuisine) than Derek ever could have been. They find themselves bickering more over conflicting styles and tastes than his lack of involvement in the planning. But she keeps reminding herself that this is why she loves him. He's always there supporting her when most men would simply run for the hills. She trusts he will never lose interest in her or stop caring for her by the little reminders he litters on their bathroom mirror when he's forced to leave without her hearing a proper goodbye. Or how he always picks up the phone when she calls and directly returns any missed ones. He runs out in the middle of the night when she was craving rocky road ice cream for no apparent reason. And on occasion when she's feeling particularly low, he'll hold her when she needs to cry. His attentiveness to her is something new, something that she's still adjusting to because like most people…Addison hates change.<p>

She liked the independence of her old life, the one that consisted of her going to bed whenever she pleased or eating the last slice of cheesecake. The life where she only answered to a man if sex was included in the exchange. She could self-destruct and no one would notice because she'd put on a smile, some flashy designer clothes, and be a damn good professional the next day. It was odd to imagine living any other way before Jake Riley swept her off her feet. Constant disappointment and melancholy nights on the living room couch were replaced with sweet declarations of love and strong arms holding her close as two bodies fused into one. And it most certainly wasn't easy. They fought just as fiercely as they fell for one another. He argued she was bossy and childish when things didn't go exactly her way. She complained about his stubborn streak and need to fix everything for her.

But these are miniscule to the disputes she's faced in former relationships. There isn't any indifference thrown her way, no deceit to cause her to doubt, and no broken promises made in the early stages without really thinking ahead to a potential future. He knows what she wants out of life and he respects it. In fact he's gone through painstaking attempts to make it happen. They are on the verge of having almost everything they wanted. For her it was a family in exchange for a lifetime of happiness for both of them. And he had been a father of sorts before and found it to be rewarding. She could see the thrill of having something to call partially his and hers written all over her face.

So it was no surprise that she wanted to reciprocate by donning another white dress and veil and professing her love for him in front of all their friends. She never intended to marry again; the first time around had been difficult enough. But Jake was a good man. He wasn't a good man like Derek, who felt obligated to marry his girlfriend of six years instead of tell her the looming doubt at the back of his mind. He wasn't the good man Sam had claimed to be because he didn't make grandiose promises of an idealistic future. If anything he allowed his actions to showcase his feelings for her over his words.

However there was another significant man in her life she simply struggled to use as a point of comparison. Was Jake more of a decent man than _him_? Only time would tell if he measured up to the one man who was good enough of a challenge for her to love. The one who was good enough to go forty-six days without sex just for a chance to maybe one day call her his girl. The one who could still forgive the unforgivable hurt she had put him through time and time again.

These feelings of doubt lingered as plans for the wedding progressed. She never confided in anyone, not even Amelia, how she truly felt for fear that the truth would come out or misunderstandings would result in a postponement. She couldn't afford for that to happen at this stage in her life. She wanted a family, and this was her best chance of achieving those dreams. So she played the role of dutiful, adoring fiancée and was so convincing that she even caught herself smiling or laughing without having to force it. He loved her more than his first wife and she did love him more than her first husband. But it wasn't her past with Derek she was constantly comparing every other man to.

The morning finally arrives and everything runs as smoothly as possible on such a chaotic day full of hurrying to simply wait for the next cue. Charlotte's nearly finished with her makeup, and Amelia's spraying back loose curls until they completely stiffen. Violet's roaming the church for Lucas whom Pete lost sight of for a moment. And then somewhere in between that fiasco and Amelia trying to figure out the best way to lay the veil amongst her let down curls, Cooper comes in saying something's wrong with the flowers and both women hurry out to fix it so everything is perfect for the big day.

She doesn't mind the alone time. In fact, when she was marrying Derek the chaos of his sisters and mother, her mother, and Naomi and Sav forced her into a state of nervous tears. Everyone was asked to clear the room immediately except for Naomi, Sav, and Nancy whom Addison affectionately referred to as _the triad of honorable maidens. _The three ladies gently reassured her she loved Derek and he really loved her. They made promises they really knew nothing about but at the time they said everything she had needed to hear to walk down the aisle.

Today she's grateful to be alone. She waits for nearly ten minutes and then soon realizes no one has returned with news concerning the floral issue. Nerves start to take hold of her as she looks to the cathedral length veil the bridal saleswoman insisted would accentuate the simple elegance of her off the shoulder beaded lace dress. It would be too difficult to pin it to her head without getting tangled up in it. But as time ticks onward and fears of abandonment take hold of her, she realizes she doesn't have any other option really.

Addison shakes out the fabric watching it billow out in an attempt to drape the entirety of the veil over several chairs in her changing room. Once she achieves success with this, she digs the comb at the back of her head, deciding it's too low. She tries to fixate higher and then pull the top layer of the netting that will cover her face over her head but the comb slips out. She cringes when she feels wisps escaping from the concrete hold the hairspray was supposed to achieve. After struggling with the feat for several minutes she hears a familiar sound of laughter coming from the doorway.

"Need some help?"

Her heart stops at his words. Addison whirls around, "Mark. W-what are you doing here?"

He grins at her crookedly, still marveling at her lack of control in his presence. "You invited me, remember?" The teasing in his voice causes her to laugh, eyes peer down at the ground, and habitually reach up to tuck back a stand of hair that's already pulled back in her half up, half down style.

"I do remember." Her emerald eyes flit back up to meet his as she smirks, "I just—I didn't think you'd come."

"And pass up a free meal?" Mark pushes from his place off the wall and casually closes the door behind him. He feigns seriousness, "I had to come for that."

Another soft peal of laughter escapes her. He grins broader, knowing he's caused her some relief.

"So, do you need some help?" He gestures towards the veil that is now tangled like a strand of DNA.

"Oh Amelia was…" She begins to protest. Then her eyes land on the wall clock when she sighs dejectedly when only ten minutes separate her from becoming Mrs. Montgomery-Riley. "Well I guess she's busy…so what the hell? If you don't mind." She shrugs handing him the comb and moving to untangle the twisted veil that trails behind it.

"So you and Jake," He comments lightly, making it difficult for her to decipher what he means by this exactly.

He helps her untangle the mess that is her veil and then replies with an anxious smile, "Yeah."

"Does he make you happy?" Mark asks without any sense of subtly.

She stops for a moment and then looks up at him with sincerity, "He does."

He nods, grateful to know she'll at least be smiling more. They finish untangling the fabric in silence carefully not allowing their hands to touch. She turns back to the mirror and explains to him where she wants it pinned on her head.

Mark digs the comb in deep enough for her to wince, him to apologize, and her to tell him she doesn't want it falling out until after the ceremony. She then starts handing him the pins, commenting on whether or not they fastened correctly.

The question he's wondered about for a while finally resurfaces in their conversation, "Is he a good guy?"

She hesitates, her brow lifting and eyes widening at him in the mirror. Mark doesn't allow himself to stare for more than a few seconds before focusing his attention to her hair. She then is able to answer, "I think so, yes."

Mark then asks in quieter tones, "And he loves you as much as you love him?" He places another pin in her veil and stops to stare at her reflection again.

"Probably even more," She admits with cheeks blushing fiercely after the words slip out.

He lifts a brow, "But you do love him right?"

She chews on the inside of her cheek and dips her eyes forward, "I do. It's just…hard." She finds his gaze again while explaining, "It's hard going through all of this again. Knowing it can end badly."

"It's not hard if it's the right person," He informs her knowingly under his intense guise.

"What about you and Lexie? You two aren't together anymore?" It's her discrete way of diverting attention from her feelings for Jake onto solving the Julia mystery that's plagued her ever since she saw her name scrawled in Mark's uneven handwriting on his return card. She longed to know what this new woman meant to him.

Mark replies flatly, "No, that ship has sailed."

"And uh…Julia?" She probes innocently.

"Yes?" He challenges, not explaining anymore than he has to.

"What's she like?"

He stares at her reflection in the mirror for a moment or so. A pair of reflected emerald orbs stare back at him, creating chills at the back of his neck. "She's beautiful," He mutters while looking at her, "and she has a good heart. And she adores Sofia."

Addison lowers her eyes and nods silently at his description. She doesn't think it was smart for her to ask about this new woman.

"She's not too bad in bed either," He can't help but chide.

Addison snorts at this and he smiles half-heartedly because for an instant he thought he'd hurt her.

"She sounds like the right person for you," Is all she can manage to say.

"I don't know about that," He argues softly. His warm breath seeps through the thin fabric of her veil onto her bare neck, "But she's probably close enough."

Addison turns her face until it aligns with his, "Then don't screw it up."

"I won't if you won't," He leans forward until his forehead rests against hers. Their lips are a mere centimeters apart as their noses press together.

"Mark, please don't," She squeezes her eyes tightly shut, afraid that if she sees the kiss coming she'll have something to be guilty of.

Her heart races with anticipation as she feels his hot breath hits her bottom lip quicker as space slowly closes between them. His mouth tilts downward until his mouth just barely graces hers. It's over so quickly she doesn't even have time to reciprocate or classify it as a kiss. Instead of fusing his mouth against hers it finds her forehead in a chaste manner.

She breathes out a sigh. Feelings of relief, disappointment and guilt crash over her unevenly when he pulls away and they are nothing more than friends at this moment forward.

"Goodbye, Addie." He tells her with melancholy look in his pale green eyes.

As he walks away she doesn't have to wonder anymore about what it means to be a good or decent man. He's the dark horse no one expected to rise to the top. But it's clear he's made his choice and now she has to make hers.

She strides out into the garden and looks down the long aisle at the man who's beaming in her direction. Amelia takes her by the arm and leads her down the straight path she's chosen. A rock or something catches under her left heel, causing her to momentarily lose her balance but between Amelia and a strong hand that reaches out for her she doesn't fall. Her eyes wander up to whom the hand belongs to and she sees a teary eyed redhead on the other side of him.

Mark inclines his head at her and smiles despite his clenched jaw that suggests he's holding back more emotions for her than she'll ever know. He releases her and Amelia is leading her onward, there's no more time for her to look back.

While she takes her vows in front of God and all of her close friends, they both come to realize as far as they're concerned, goodbye doesn't mean forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**This is probably chalk full of typos. I tried to read through it, but my eyes are barely staying open at the moment. Anyway, this is full of Maddison banter/bit of angst/drunkenness with some Maddek undertones. The trio is going back to New York for an event at their alma mater. The rest should be self explanatory. Enjoy my Maddison lovers! **

* * *

><p><em>"We were way before our time, <em>_as bold as we were blind,_

_Just another perfect mistake, __another bridge to take on the way to letting go."_

"Are you sure you don't want to come?" She asks him with a nervous quality present in her words.

He beams at her warmly and cups the side of her face with his free hand. "Someone has to stay home and take care of the Princess," He reminds her, adjusting the dark haired toddler with caramel skin and brilliant blue green eyes in the crook of his hip.

She nods in agreement and sighs sadly, "Right."

"Hey," He searches her face for the underlying meaning behind her obvious distress. "It's only for a few days, Addie."

"I know," She replies her eyes darting between him and their little girl anxiously. "I'm just going to miss both of you so much." Her hand reaches to stroke her daughter's long black hair.

He extends an arm and draws her into his side, placing a soft kiss at her temple. "We'll miss you a whole lot too, Addie," He mumbles quietly against her skin.

"Mamma," The little girl reaches with open arms towards the redhead. She obviously senses her parent's closeness and wants to be a part of it.

"Ok Rosie," Addison smiles sweetly at her two year old as Jake carefully places the girl in his wife's waiting arms. She brings her face against the little girls cheek and places a string of several kisses there causing Rosie to giggle in delight. Jake grins broadly at them, his hand still resting on Addison's back. "Mamma's going away for a couple of days, so you be a good girl for Daddy. Ok, Princess?"

"Mamma leave?" Her butterfly shaped lips frown at the very thought and eyes widen in fear.

"I'll be back," Addison is quick to reassure her. "In three days," She lifts up three of her fingers to show illustrate this in a concrete manner to the little girl.

"Tree days?" She echoes softly, unable to still articulate her _h's. _

Her mother nods with a reassuring smile, "Yup. You can count down each day with Daddy before you go to bed every night. And I'll try to call you before you go to sleep each night." Addison taps the two year old on the nose and giggles at her open mouthed smiles.

The crackling of an intercom disturbs the nearly perfect moment as the attendant reminds those on Flight 624 that first class is now boarding.

"Alright," Addison exhales, "Rosie? Mamma has to go now." She notices the disappointment in her baby girl's face but tries to brighten the moment by chiding, "Does the kissy monster need to come back?" Rosie whips her midnight hair from side to side her eyes widening with childish fervor.

The redhead presses her nose against the fullness of her daughter's cheek before laying a kiss on Rosie's flawlessly soft skin. "Now give Mamma a kiss," She beckons by turning her face so Rosie can repeat the action. "Ok, love you Princess." Addison reminds the two year old while passing her back to Jake.

"Mamma no leave!" Rosie interlocks her hands around Addison's neck trying to make it impossible for them to separate from one another.

"Rosie, Mamma will come back." Jake coos softly, trying to bounce her happily against his hip. But her lip is trembling and tears threaten to spill out onto her cheeks.

Addison knows she has a limited window before her motherly instincts kick in and she finds an excuse not to go. Except Jake would feel guilty about not being able to satisfy the void she's momentarily leaving behind for Rosie. Not only that but he would also feel bad she missed out on an opportunity to stun the young, earnest minds at one of the most prestigious medical schools in the country with her brilliant advances in maternal medicine and revisit her alma mater with fond memories.

She leans forward on tiptoe and finds his lips easily. It's soft and chaste like they've been doing it for years and will continue doing it for many years to come. "Bye honey," Addison mutters sweetly.

Rosie is now making her feelings about Mamma leaving more evident when she tries to tangle her fingers in Addison's crimson curls. Trying to be firm yet sympathetic with her daughter, Addison plants another kiss against her face and rubs their noses together. "Bye Princess. Mamma loves you very much."

"Call us when you get there!" Jake reminds her as she's dragging her medium sized designer suitcase onto the terminal.

She waves goodbye before completely turning the corner in the terminal and disappearing from view. The closer she gets to the plane, the quicker her heartbeats. It won't be long before she's revisiting the city that changed her life forever.

* * *

><p>"You know, you could come with us?" Mark grins crookedly at her as she attempts to fold his clothes in the suitcase in a somewhat orderly fashion.<p>

Julia smiles back at him and then replies teasingly, "I know. But I'm sure you and Derek will be too busy reliving the heydays of your medical school years to notice me much."

"It's very difficult not to notice you," He sneaks up behind her, his teeth nibbling at her earlobe and arms encircling her waist.

She leans back into him a slight moaning escaping her lips as his mouth makes contact with one of her most sensitive spots. "You know what I mean," She mumbles as his mouth travels down the length of her neck.

His hands press into the dip in her pelvis and she warns throatily, "Mark. Derek's going to be here to pick you up in fifteen minutes."

"So?" He breathes hotly along her shoulder, "We can do a lot in fifteen minutes."

Julia's hands cover his and then slowly wrench them away from her hip region. She turns around in his arms, encircling his neck and bringing her face a few inches from his. A slight smirk dances across her lips as she instructs bossily, "The least you can do is face me if you only have fifteen minutes to notice your fiancée."

His lips curl into a similar expression before their mouths and bodies collide in order to take off to that place of ecstasy before Derek arrives.

* * *

><p>Six hours later, although it feels like nine given the unfortunate time difference their bodies aren't accustomed to, Derek and Mark file out of the cab and into the lobby of Morningside Inn. Before the rotating doors sweep them fully inside, both men's head sweep around to catch the once familiar glimpse of bright lights and the constant hum of the city where their lives as adults began to unfold.<p>

"Wow, I don't miss this at all," Derek mutters with a nervously chuckle while draping the clothes bag over his shoulder.

Mark doesn't object to his best friend's vocalization, not wanting to stir up any ill memories in reference to the unforgettable act they no longer mention despite the passage of time. They start across the pristinely ornamented lobby, but soon stop short when a pair of dangerously long legs (once ivory, now sun kissed) captures their attention. If it weren't for the perfectly styled auburn curls and four-inch stilettos they might have guessed it was just another unattainable hot chick. But when she turns around in her royal blue knee length dress that plunges forward enough to reveal the curve of her breasts, there's no more wondering.

She looks around for a bellhop to help her with the obscene amount of luggage she's traveling with for a mere three days when her gaze fixates on both men. Momentarily surprise flickers across her face, but she quickly dispels that with a coy half smirk. It's their cue to approach the counter she's leaning against.

"Hello boys," She can't help the chiding tone, "fancy seeing you two here."

"Well of course you're here," Derek grumbles with false annoyance. He checks in with the desk clerk for his room with Mark and once paperwork is being finalized her turns back to Addison, "What is it they're calling you these days…the Meryl Streep of maternal medicine?"

She tilts her head to the side and smiles with a level of innocence, "I've come all long way since they were last calling me, Satan."

"I thought that was just Derek's pet name for you," Mark chimes tauntingly.

Addison chuckles and Derek merely rolls his eyes. The desk clerk hands him two keys and he tries to politely extract Mark and himself from the conversation.

"So I understand why the Neuro God is here. But what is the Plastics Junkie doing in New York?"

Mark lifts a brow and practically pouts, "He gets to be a God and I'm a only Junkie?"

"He saves lives Mark. How many women have died getting silicone implants?" Addison jokes harmlessly.

Derek then interrupts, "Ok. As much as I would love to listen to you two try and one up each other all evening, I'm exhausted."

"I'd be lying if I said wasn't either," Addison sighs. "Besides I need to make a call."

Both men nod and mumble similar things in agreement.

"But we should get lunch or something tomorrow," She suggests with a shrug, which causes Derek to groan and Mark to laugh at the idea. "Oh come on, how many times are you ever going to come back to the city and eat at O'Connell's again?"

She can see the enticement shining in Mark's jade eyes but Derek tries to make up some half-hearted excuse about not wanting to spend any more time or money in this city than he has to.

"Look Derek, if it's really a problem I can always cover you," She bats her eyelashes at him in an attempt to be charming, but it's more or less condescending.

"No," He interjects boldly, "that's not necessary Addison. I can pay my own way."

"What do you say, Shep? Like old times?" Mark nudges his begrudging friend in the ribs with his elbow.

Derek glances between the pair of them and relents, "Alright fine. But let's say around two o'clock shall we?"

"Wouldn't want you to miss out on your beauty sleep," Addison jokes, causing Mark to laugh softly along side her and Derek to shove her playfully.

* * *

><p>Given the many years it's been since they've been in the city, somehow it feels like they've never left or lost touch with each other. Some things may have changed like Mark's grey to blonde ratio or the wrinkles at the corner of Derek's eyes or even Addison's obviously yet slight gain in weight. However these minute physical observations don't even factor into the actual dynamic that remains when it's just the three of them.<p>

They sip on cheap beer and dive into plastic baskets chalk full of fried fish and greasy French fries, playing the game that nostalgia reminds them of the happy moments they spent in a city that forever connected them. Their conversation lingers on those memories of the four years they spent on the Upper West Side nearly two decades ago. Somehow they end up recalling the wilder nights and their ridiculous behavior during the two-week transition in between semesters.

"Remember that one time we went to karaoke night?" Mark suddenly brings up with a devious grin splitting his mouth open.

Addison palms the side of her face and groans when less than desirable memories of a younger, drunken version of herself resurface.

Derek laughs, "The time Addison puked all over the bar while singing 'Pour Some Sugar On Me?'"

Mark joins in and Addison soon follows suit, her cheeks reddening at the ridiculous memory of her younger, drunken self.

"How the Hell did it go?" Mark states in between rolling bouts of laughter.

Derek shakes his head with a broad grin, "I have no idea."

They both glance at Addison whose eyes widen and she holds her hands up in defense. "What? That was almost twenty years ago!"

"And that was only your favorite song at the time," Derek rolls his eyes at her with mild annoyance.

"Yeah," Mark reminds her with a knowing grin, "you only gave us a performance every time it came on at the bars."

She returns with a coy half smile, "I'm not twenty-five anymore nor is there enough alcohol in the world to make me…"

"Then take another," Mark slides his beer across the table to her.

"I have a speech to give in four hours!" She exclaims, horrified at the thought of screwing up in front of hundreds of medical students who no doubt highly regard her for her contributions to science.

"She's right, Mark," Derek agrees.

"Thank you!" Addison wraps an arm over her ex-husband's shoulders and placing a kiss against his cheek to show her appreciation for him still backing her.

"We should wait until _after_."

* * *

><p>However enthusiastic Derek may have seemed about drinking after their presentations at Columbia, it soon dwindles after his third scotch when his head is spinning and eyes begin to droop.<p>

"I'm too old for this," Derek grumbles miserably before passing between the pair of them to go back to the hotel.

"It's not even eleven!" Addison exclaims, sucking down another martini through a straw.

Mark heads outside with him to make sure he's ok catching a cab before he returns to a table in the corner of the bar where Addison waits with a new drink for both of them.

"Looks like it's just you and me Red," He observes from across the table with a growing smirk to showcase his delight at this new turn of events.

She peers over her glass at him and muses, "We always could handle our liquor better."

"It's genetic when you're a thoroughbred," He clicks his class against hers in agreement before taking a sip. It's an unspoken toast to them, one that borders between inappropriate and friendly. After relishing in the burn of the alcohol he asks pointedly, "How's the husband?"

"Perfect," She mutters with an air of sarcasm, sparkling green eyes lifting up to the ceiling and a smirk appearing at her mouth.

Mark tilts his head and shoots her a probing look.

"He doesn't have one flaw," She explains with a shrug, "It's like he's a damn saint or something."

"Well you know, saints were sinners too," He points out.

They chuckle easily before taking another sip of their drinks.

"How's Julia?" She asks politely, studying his downcast expression.

He tells her without looking up first, "Good."

When she doesn't say anything their eyes meet across the table again. He has a pained expression on his face like there's something he wants to say, but chews on the inside of his cheek.

Addison lifts a brow at him, bringing the glass to her lips without breaking the gaze.

Like always, he finally cracks under her intense guise. "We're…getting married."

She spits out her drink all over herself and then curses under her breath for reacting as such while reaching for a napkin. "Shit…this was brand new too…" She tries to dab it out with a paper napkin without much success. "Well this is ruined," Addison frowns and then sighs dramatically, "and I need a new drink."

She hops down off her barstool, but he grabs her forearm causing her to turn back into his body slightly. "I'll get it," He assures her. "You can go to the bathroom if you want to dry off there-"

"Thanks," Is all she can manage with a slightly dejected look before walking off to the single room that makes up the bathroom.

There's really no reason for her to react in this way. She's married to a man who any woman would kill to have and has a beautiful daughter of her own. If anything she shouldn't be responding to Mark's news with anything but a smile and a congratulations, not washing gin out of her brand new silk blouse.

A few moments later she returns with minimal success on retracting the stain. He notices but doesn't say anything. Instead he slides her martini glass towards her place at the table and casts a weak smile in her direction.

"So do you not like Julia?" He wonders lightly, his fingers tracing circles along the edge of his stout glass.

"No," Addison squeaks up in defense with a perplexed expression, "I think she's great."

He waits for her to counter this with a negative opinion. When she chooses to engage in a staring contest with her martini, he leans his face forward in order to read her many thoughts. "But-" Mark prompts curiously.

She swallows and sets her jaw with determination. Her eyes lift to his and she remarks smoothly, "But nothing."

"You spit your drink up all over yourself and you have absolutely no opinion? Come on, Addie. I know you better than that."

"Alright," She relents with a melodramatic sigh bringing her hands in the air. "There's not a single thing wrong with her. It's you."

"Me? What's wrong with me?"

"Come on Mark, I know you better than that." Her lips twitch into a sly smile before catching the rim of the martini glass in between them and sucking it dry. She squints her eyes and expels a sharp gush of air as her throat burns, "You're not the marrying type."

"Just like I'm not the fathering type?" He challenges darkly.

Her mouth hangs open in disbelief for a few moments after processing his words. A pang of guilt stabs her chest, but she refuses to let the extent of her wounds show. There's no need for them to rehash the low points with one another, considering the new lives they've established void of constant reminders. Addison glances away and waves at the waiter to bring another round of drinks. She's going to need more to try and forget his harsh words dripping with disdain. Especially if mention of what could have been is brought up again.

After they self-medicated with another round (she stopped counting at four), she sets her drink down and leans on an elbow. "I shouldn't have said that," She admits sullenly.

They both inhale sharply at her words that dwell on an uncomfortable subject.

Addison shifts to a more upright position and begins stirring her drink slowly. "I just thought you and I weren't…"

"I know," He cuts in with evidence of sincerity in his tone.

"But maybe…" She dares to find him once more, a cautious expression forming across her face. She tells him in soft tones, "Maybe we are good together now that…things are different. Now that we are different."

"We've always been good together, Red. We're both just understanding that out now."

* * *

><p>Before they know it, last call is being made and they are so drunk they can barely stand up straight on their way back to the hotel. Mark convinces her to walk because he's of the belief a hangover or drunkenness can be cured by fresh air and exercise. She bitches the entire four blocks that she's going to throw up and he tells her to just do it already after being unable to take her complaining.<p>

They end up laughing until their sides hurt as he slings an arm over her shoulders for support and kisses the side of her face. Her head falls in the crook of his collarbone and both of them have an idea of how the night will end. They just remain silent so as not to get their hopes up for something that really shouldn't even be crossing their minds.

"Oh fuck! I can't find my room key! Where the hell is it?" She stumbles down the hallway in a zigzag fashion. "Mark!" She groans while trying to distinguish between the items in her purse.

He trails behind her in a similar stomping fashion, grabbing her shoulders in an attempt to force her to slow down so he can catch up. However, his impaired judgment makes them collide together into a wall. "Shhh…" Mark presses an index finger at the opening of his lips whenever her high pitched giggles threaten to disturb the sleeping guests that might call a complaint against them.

"You shhhh…" Addison scolds him drunkenly in between peals of laughter, "…and help me find my knee."

"Knee?" He cackles at her mispronunciation, "You mean key?"

"Yeah, that's what I said…key!" She frowns at his stupidity, rummaging amongst all the junk in her purse. "Ah-ha!" She finishes digs out the card and sticks it inside the lock pad before jiggling the door to let them inside.

Addison tosses her purse aside, kicks off her heels, and then goes on a mission for the room service menu to curb her late night, drunken munchies.

"You only have one bed?" Mark observes coyly. He makes his way around the room careful not to trip over anything.

Addison whirls around and stumbles forward into his arms. She tries to dictate in a serious manner, "Don't you get any ideas, Mark Sloan. Just because I have one bed, doesn't mean I'm not a married woman." She flashes her left hand for him to catch sight of the ring on her fourth finger. "So don't even think about trying anything."

"Never stopped you before," He can't help but taunt her, his arms holding onto her more tightly.

She gasps in horror but then giggles drunkenly at the validity of his words. "And you think you're the marrying type when you keep…doing that."

"What?" He feigns innocence.

"Flirting me into bed with you," She straightens up until she's out of his reach.

"I'm not flirting with you into anything, Addie. I'm with someone." He decides weakly, his jade green eyes out of focus and unclear.

She eyes dance with that familiar desire and her hips sway in a way that drives him crazy whenever she bites back coquettishly, "Never stopped _you_ before."

Mark grabs her arm and then draws her body against his. His mouth fuses with hers until her hands bring up in between them to create some space.

Addison's eyes flutter closed and she breathes in the scent of scotch and exhales gin. "Mark," She protests weakly but finds her mouth falling forward against his again. "I'm. Drunk." She informs him between closed mouth kisses she wants to make longer.

"Me too," He admits before planting another wet kiss against her lips.

"You won't remember will you?" She wonders with a sweet edge of hopefulness in her tone.

His hand takes her face and forces her neck back so he can taste more of her. In between the string of forbidden kisses he mumbles, creating hot patches against her skin. "Not unless. You want me to."

"No," Her fingers tangle in his hair and press his face deeper against her upper body.

They fall back against the sheets and perform the horizontal act until both of them reaches the inevitable climax. Then their bodies tire, sleep instantly taking hold of them. After a couple of hours, he leaves without looking back. She stirs when the door slips shut behind him. Her mind lingers in the place between consciousness and dreams, where she can't tell if all of it was real or not.

But this distinction doesn't really matter because they still have more time for another goodbye.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello all! Another update this week? And I don't even have my computer hah. Or schoolwork it would seem. Anyway, I have returned to this angsty thing and that's really the only way I can describe it. If you take the time to read this, I would greatly appreciate your feedback. It seriously helps me as a writer and self-conscious Maddison fan these days. Thanks guys! I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

><p><em>This ain't goodbye this is just where love goes,<em>

_when words aren't warm enough to keep away the cold._

She's been able to suppress the memories of that evening, convincing herself it was merely a dream. And for the most part it works, the guilt slowly lessens its grip on her heart with each passing day. She begins to tear up or cry less when he does something selflessly kind for her or their daughter. He surmises there's something she's withholding from him, but he would never unwillingly force it out of her. He's more patient than any man she's ever been with. He knows she'll tell him whenever she can, or when she feels comfortable discussing whatever it is that has changed her.

It's not the crying that bothers him; in fact he likes the tears (whether happy or claiming to be) because it shows just how much she cares. And while he vocalizes it more frequently to ease her insecurities, her easily accessible emotions gives him the reassurance he needs in return. They fit together in a way that's convenient. Their lives intertwine easily because of work and more importantly, Rosie. Underneath the sweet gestures and smiles, both of them have a quiet understanding it's because of her they work so well together.

Eleven years pass more swiftly than either parent is ready for. Their once bubbly little girl who was content coating everything with glitter now reserves that sort of glamour to coat her grown out fingernails. Her once curly midnight hair that her mother once fashioned into pigtails was now flecked with caramel streaks and straightened. Her most prized stuffed animals and dolls were now locked away in storage bins while books, jewelry, makeup and electronic devices now littered her room. Beyond the physical distinctions between Rosie their little girl to Rosalie an almost woman, was the distance placed between her and her parents.

She rarely graced them with her presence as music lessons, schoolwork, and social activities with friends began to shape her as independent from mother and father. They support her decisions wholeheartedly and do everything possible to ensure her happiness. But they also have no problem disciplining when she tries to rebel and steps out of bounds from what they deem to be acceptable behavior. This distance from their only child draws them closer as a couple.

And their lives unfold without any serious setbacks that would disrupt the natural flow of their family. For over a decade he does not cross her mind as anything more than just an old friend. Being away from him for eleven years allows her to concentrate on her marriage and raising her daughter to be a respectable young woman. She begins to forget the little things that made them more. The way he unnerved her with a steady gaze full of desire or how her skin felt on fire when he touched her. They are now phantom memories she replaces by being with her husband.

Eleven years of reconnecting, self-discovery and falling in love all over again with everything in Los Angeles. It accounts for eleven Christmas's they travel back to New York so she can get a glimpse of snow and Rosalie can see the ballet company she wants to be join someday. It marks thirty-three birthday's celebrated between the three of them and just as many other significant and less than significant moments linking her to him and Rosalie to both.

It's an unexpected bliss she knows will end someday, but in the meantime she convinces herself she needs to enjoy it while she can. After all, she's learned it is better to take the risk and love him wholeheartedly than not to have any of what he's given her for nearly fifteen years. The risk of this potential loss becomes clearer when she comes home on Friday night and hears two male voices full of laughter trailing from her kitchen and into the foyer of her house.

"Honey?" She sets her keys on the table, kicks off her shoes carelessly, and plops her purse down nearby.

"Addie, is that you?" Jake appears at the end of the hall, beckoning her forward with a wine glass. "You're never going to believe who showed up at the practice today."

She approaches him with a curious expression, rising up on the naked balls of her feet to plant a sweet kiss against his lips. "What are talking about-" She then peers over his shoulder and swallows back the nervous lump forming in her throat as Mark Sloan stands in her kitchen. "Mark," Addison sucks in air, her fingers grazing Jake's as he passes her a drink.

With a cocky grin spreading across his lips, he opens his arms and a clearly stunned Addison steps into them. The wine sloshes in her glass and she laughs softly out of sheer surprise, hoping it hides the uncomfortable tension that is now enveloping them.

She pulls away after an appropriate amount of time, brings her arms out to the side, and chides with a quirked brow. "What the hell are you doing in Los Angeles?"

"It's good to see you too, Red." He can't help but tease her in return. However, she shoots him a warning glance whenever he uses this forbidden namesake so freely in front of her husband.

"Red?" Jake's lips curl into a slight grin, and she sees the hint of mockery crossing his expression.

"Don't," She extends an index finger in his direction, feigning seriousness. "Don't you dare go making fun of me for that."

"I didn't say a word," Jake lifts both hands like he's waving in surrender.

"But you thinking about it," Addison smirks before lifting the wine glass to her lips. "Besides," She swallows and readjusts the front of her blouse self-consciously, "that was a _long _time ago." Her eyes wander back over to Mark with distinctive meaning in her face.

"Not _that_ long ago, Addie," He returns with a sly half smile.

"Long enough," She counters firmly. Then confusion scrunches her brow and she gestures between both men with her wine glass, "So tell me, why are you standing in my house in L.A., drinking my expensive wine?"

He chuckles in amusement at her, "Well that would be your husband's doing. We ran into each other at the practice and got to talking."

Jake places a hand at the curve in her spine and continues smoothly; "Yeah when Mark said he'd be in town for a few days…well I just know how you're always saying you don't get to see a lot of your old friends anymore." His warm gaze reaches hers, "So I invited him over for drinks tonight, thinking all of us could do that." He looks rather pleased with himself at making an effort with Mark, even after he knows nearly all of the messy history between his wife and her old lover and friend.

The smile loses some of its curve and the brightness of her green eyes fades for a brief instant. "Really now?" She peers back over at Mark, who's still grinning at her in such a smug way that makes her want to smack him. But she manages to restrain her feelings. (She's been doing it for over a decade, what difference is one more night going to make?) Besides, Jake's ability to welcome Mark into their home without any concerns makes her heart swell will even greater feelings for him.

Putting on another one of dazzling airs of complete security and confidence she reaches up to place a hand at the back of Jake's neck and kisses him languidly against the smooth. His arm encircles her further as she rises on tiptoe before she breaks contact. "That was very sweet of you," She commends his decision.

They step away from the hold on one another, but only Addison notices the sad half smile that crosses Mark's lips before Jake claps him on the back and invites him to watch the Kings game. She remains in the kitchen and downs her glass of wine. If she has any hope of coming out of tonight with her life in tact, she's going to need a little help.

* * *

><p>She leans on the far left end of the couch, her legs clad in grey sweatpants (she ditched the skirt in a last effort to stall her interaction with Mark &amp; Jake) and pulled in closer to her chest. Jake sits on the opposite end, his arm casually slung over the back of the couch one leg crossed over the other at a ninety degree angle. Mark looks between the pair of them in an adjacent armchair, closer to Addison's side.<p>

They engage in a game of catch up, learning more about one another so as to ease the tension that presents itself. Mark hears all about Rosalie, their miracle baby who is practically a grown woman and Jake's stepdaughter Angelica, who's doing research at the Mayo Clinic. The brief anecdotes and rounds of laughter that surround these aspects of the conversation give him reason to believe they're all happy with the little family they've grown into. Still he sees the nostaligic lingering in the light of her blue eyes, which has him wondering how long it's taken for her to let go of the past and allow herself a future without him.

And similarly to their story Mark adds that he's now a husband to a very pregnant wife, and taking on his role of the father of a teenager with anxiety and stride. This commonality between both men allow them to indulge in humorous stories of how they attempted to frighten off any potential suitors that had eyes for their little girls.

"I can't imagine going through it twice," Mark lifts his glass of wine in a sort of salute to Jake.

He shrugs and muses, "Honestly, the second time around is more fun. You already know what to expect, and therefore feel more confident to torture the boys even more."

"You haven't tortured anyone," Addison retorts smartly. "She hasn't even shown interest in boys yet."

"What about that Brandon kid?" Jake returns with a furrowed brow.

"Oh him," She snorts and flips a hand, "he's just a friend."

"Yeah," Mark inclines his head knowingly, "that's what Sofia said about Will. Next thing I know he's practically mauling my baby girl in the back of a movie theater." He adds when Addison and Jake frown at him in confusion, "I might have followed them."

Addison throws her head back and giggles, "Wow! Someone is finally getting a taste of their own medicine."

"Shut up," Mark grumbles before finishing off another glass of wine.

Jake nods at his wife, "What are you suggesting?"

Addison turns back to Jake and informs him with a wry grin, "You know, Mark might play the role of the faithful husband and stable father right now...but he wasn't always that way."

"Hey," Mark sets down the wine glass on the coffee table and points a finger in her direction, "you weren't always so innocent back in the day, Red."

"Really?" Jake perks up whenever he hears this, sliding over on the couch to close the space between Addison and him. He stares at her in that intense way she finds unnerving, an interested smirk splaying across his mouth. "And here I thought she was the portrait of serious relationships."

Mark can't help but snicker at this as many memories from their medical school days begin to resurface again. "Ha! Before Derek came into the picture, she was known half the campus refered to her as the Heiress Heartbreaker."

"And it wasn't because I slept with any of them and didn't call the next day," She interjects, lifting a hand in her defense before shooting him a pointed glance.

"Then why did they call you that?" Jake wonders out loud.

Mark shifts in his seat and eagerly answers when she doesn't, "Because anyone who came within a file mile radius of her got his nuts clipped off and heart stomped on with those damn heels."

Jake laughs softly at Mark's explanation and Addison's disgruntled face, "You mean you wore those back then too?"

"She was _born_ in those things," Mark chides.

Addison folds her arms in her lap, purses her lips into a frown that is slowly turning more into a smile as she finds comfort in poking fun of herself rather than anything serious. Shaking her head slowly she reminds him, "Just be careful what dirty laundry you decide to air with my husband, Mark. I guarantee you, yours are dirtier."

"Oh Red," He sighs with an ounce of laughter, as if her warning doesn't concern him in the slightest. Mark then turns his attention back to Jake and questions, "Did you hear the one about Def Leppard's karoke night?"

Addison instantly whirls on him, her feet reaching the floor as she scolds him. "No! No! No!"

But this sort of reaction only fans her husband's curiosity. "I haven't," Jake admits and then catches the threatening expression crossing across his wife's face. "But now I'm dying to know all about it."

"Well back in the day," Mark begins.

"No! Mark, you are seriously forbidden from telling that story," Addison reaches out to smack his shoulder, playfully shoving him away.

This doesn't stop him from continuing, "Back in the day when Addison, Derek, Sam, Naomi, and I were all at Columbia, there was this bar called O'Connors."

"O'Connells," The redhead corrects, clearly annoyed. Mark lifts an exasperated brow in her direction to which she continues sullenly, "If you're so intent on telling this story the least you can do is get the name of the bar right."

"Fine," He rolls his eyes at her and then continues to tell her husband. "Anyway, this bar had karoke nights every Tuesday. And the five of us would go there for those nights in between our semesters. We'd all get plastered and then make asses of ourselves by getting up on this makeshift stage they created and singing bad hair metal songs." He pauses to collect his thoughts and then adds, "It wasn't until the end of our second year that Addison finally got the guts to actually participate."

Jake smirks at his wife knowingly.

"And her favorite hair metal song of all time was that song by Def Leppard..." He hesitates and then frowns at Addison, feigning ignorance, "...what was it called again Addison?"

She chews on her bottom lip, eyes casting daggers at him. Finally she relents and mumbles, "'Pour Some Sugar On Me.'"

"Yes," Mark points at her for emphasis, "that God awful song."

"Hey, if I recall you knew all the words at one point in time too." Addison chimes in smartly.

"At one point in time," He repeats for emphasis. "I'm pretty sure you're the only one of us who's committed that trash to memory."

"No way!" She replies haughtily.

"Wait, how does it go?" Jake leans forward into Addison's personal space.

She tilts her face back up at him and lifts a challenging brow. "Do you ever want to have sex again?"

"You've never heard it?" Mark asks in disbelief.

Jake shrugs and then starts to speak song the lyrics, "It went something along the lines of...'Pour some sugar on me, ooh in the name of love. Pour some sugar on me, come on fire me up. Pour your sugar on me, I can't get enough.''"

"Yes!" Mark nods and points a finger at him. Then he extends a finger in Addison's direction and is met with disappoval.

Jake nudges her in the ribs with his elbow, "Come on, Addie. I did the most embarassing part." His lips form a pout.

She rolls her eyes before expelling in breathy tones, "I'm hot, sticky and sweet from my head to my feet." Her cheeks instantly flush scarlet and she buries her giggling face in her hands.

Both men roar with laughter and Mark proceeds to tell Jake how Addison threw up later that evening and he had to carry her to the cab because she couldn't stand. As their laughter dies down and the conversation dwindles, a phone call interupts the somewhat even flow of their evening.

After a couple of minutes, Addison pockets her phone and stands. "That was Rosie," She tells her husband. "She needs to be picked up from the movies." Turning back to Mark, "I'm sorry to cut the evening short but I should get her."

"I'll get her," Jake offers warmly.

"Are you sure?" Addison knits her brow together, hand touching his forearm as he stands at her level.

"Yeah," He assures her. "Besides, someone has to kick Brandon's ass if he gets too handsy on the car ride home."

"Alright," Addison replies in a genuinely soft tone. "But don't do anything stupid. I'm not in the mood to bail you out of jail tonight." She moves forward to steal a kiss from him, their lips fusing together longer than he anticipated.

Once he turns from the room and she hears the front door squeal open and closed, that one moment several years ago is all she can think about.

* * *

><p>An awkward silence envelopes them without his mediating presence. She pretends to find interest in the hockey game that has run into over time while all he does is stare at her, trying to find the crack in a seemingly perfect life she's maintained.<p>

She feels his eyes fixating on her and sooner than later the tension is more than she can bear to endure. Her face turns to him and she questions cautiously, "What?"

"He doesn't know does he?"

"Know about what?" She tilts her head to the side, knowing exactly what he's refering to and yet refusing to just confirm what can easily be assumed.

"Us. Back in New York." He states plainly with little emotion, studying her.

Addison asserts, "Oh he knows."

"He does?" Shock pervades his expression and question.

"Yes," She nods and then snickers at his reaction. "For God sakes Mark, Amelia is here. Did you honestly think I could have gotten away with telling him about being married to her brother without him asking any questions about how it ended?"

It takes him a moment to fully comprehend her words, but when he does a sinking sensation overcomes him. She either doesn't remember or has forced herself to forget. Both scenarios hurt more than he cares to show her because their evening has been chalk full of avoidance and he had hoped Jake's departure might have allowed for them to confront the one loose end of their past that remains.

"That's not what I was refering to, Addison."

"Then what were you refering to, Mark?"

"That night at Columbia when I told you I was marrying, Julia?" He prompts, trying to get her to admit to the insinuation he's making.

However she responds dryly, "Yeah, what about it?"

So he settles for the most direct route and states boldly, "We had sex."

Vacancy flickers through her eyes as she mentally searches for the moment in particular he's refering to. And then as realization hits her again she laughs hollowly and rolls her eyes, "Oh, _that_."

"You never told him about _that,_ did you?"

"No," She chuckles incredulously, "why would I tell him about that, Mark?"

He opens his mouth and tries to formulate a response, but she does a good enough job for the both of them. "It's not like it meant anything. It was just sex."

"Right," He tries to play it off with the same indifference that she is. But under her guise of hollow laughter and concise retorts he sees the underlying fear catch when she shifts positions on the couch and tries to turn the course of the conversation. "Because that's all it ever was for us." The anger drips in his words, but he doesn't care. Why should he even try to hide his emotions? He owes her nothing, consideration the least of all things.

Her eyes snap back to him and hone in on his emotions. He's struck a nerve she's managed to numb without him constantly being around to stimulate it. Addison retorts sharply, "Did you tell Julia? Because something tells me if you had, that band on your left finger wouldn't exist."

She's right and he suddenly hates the everything about her in that moment. The validity of her statement, the implications that entail his facade of happiness, and the power she still holds over his heart after all these years. He responds aggressively, "Yeah well, I wasn't married back then. You had a husband and a fucking daughter."

Rage erupts over her face, her bluish eyes turning icy as she leaps to her feet with hands balled into fists at her side. "Get. Out."

He doesn't move, the satisfaction tugging at his smug expression at the guilt he's stirred up inside of her. "How old was she then? Just about two? Three?"

"I said get out of my house!"Stamping her feet and now shouting she points in the direction of the front door.

He jumps at the unexpected display of her anger, but isn't afraid of her. The worst she's ever done to him is throw a plate from her china cupboard at his forehead when she discovered his many infidelities during their two month stint. Screaming and physical injuries did not startle him or force him to shy away from her. It was something much worse than that.

And as he slowly stands, his gaze unwavering from hers, she displays the one weapon that always destroyed him. The filmy liquid forming along the edges of her blue orbs begins to gather so quickly that it soon spills out onto her cheeks. Those silent tears would haunt him forever if nothing else about her would. He wants to pull her into his arms and make them disappear underneath his calloused thumbs. But he resists the urge because it's no longer his right to make her feel better about the one thing she's tried to keep buried for so long.

He tears his remorseful jade eyes away from hers and mutters practically incoherently, "Goodbye Addison."

She swallows back the sobs that threaten to spill forth at hearing the sadness in his voice, even though he's the first one who hit below the belt. He passes by her swiftly, causing the air nearby her shoulder to stir. Addison pivots on the spot and watches his retreating figure hastily shuffling towards her front door. The salty liquid collects on her long lashes, painting black lines of mascara down her face.

He reaches the front door and violently swings the door open before letting it slam against its shaky frame. Her body trembles as the vibrations reach her from the next room and she finds herself whispering hoarsely to no one in particular, "Goodbye."


	4. Chapter 4

**Well we have reached the end of this fic, my friends. I was only planning on having four chapters of this story anyway, with the possibility for a fifth. But I think right now I am satisfied with how I ended things here. So I hope you have enjoyed this reading mini-series as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Thank you so much for everything!**

* * *

><p><em>"Oh no, this ain't goodbye <em>_it's not where our story ends_

_But I know you can't be mine, n__ot the way you've always been."_

Most people believe time heals all wounds, but Addison knows better than to buy into the cliché. The scars she's been carrying her entire life are invisible to most of the world. She conceals the damage done to her heart, by smiling and making new memories with her husband. And for the most part, he makes her forget about the wounds inflicted by other men.

But it's not always easy. They argue over trivial matters and clearly have different ideas of how to parent a sixteen year old. Whatever their differences though, Addison can count on one hand the number of times Jake's actually broken her heart. She doesn't dare count out the times when it might easy to reveal she could break his too. In fact, she doesn't even think about heartache or the betrayal anymore.

As time wears on between her last altercation with the man she once slept with during the course of her marriage, she begins to forget the finer details about him or the entire escapade. It becomes easier to convince herself they were drunk and it stopped before anything could go to far. Any remaining fragments of memory that would contradict this way of thinking are dismissed as part of a very lucid dream. So the guilt works its way out, Addison dedicates the rest of her social life to maintaining a loving marriage and raising her daughter to be a strong, independent young woman.

Their bond as mother and daughter has certainly been tested in more recent years. But Addison surmises it's just that particular phase when a young girl blames everything possible on her mother for no apparent cause or reason. Some days she recognizes the bright-eyed girl who raves about earning the highest score on her Honors English research paper while simultaneously being the only sophomore invited to take an advanced placement Biology class. Other days she furrows her brow, and snaps at her mother how impossible it would be to follow in her footsteps. Rosie's moods vary, depending on her day at school or at ballet class.

Addison tries not to take it personally, Jake often reminds her this is only a phase and that all girls come back to their mothers once they fully mature. His point of comparison makes logical sense to her, but never having the opportunity to experience this sort of relationship with her own mother makes it difficult for her to believe in this. Still, she holds onto the hope he offers like its one of her most prized possessions and wishes for a meaningful conversation with Rosalie when she returns home each day.

Three planned cesareans, one bilateral hysterectomy, and a particularly sad stillbirth delivery comprise up an entire day that Addison tries to forget about when stepping in the door. She's not going to put up much of a fight this evening if that's what her sixteen year old has in mind, she'll let her husband handle that and explain her reasons for it later.

She strolls through the dimly lit kitchen, not even realizing her daughter curled up on the couch in the corner right away. A sudden rustling of paper startles her however; Addison clutches the fabric at her chest and soon relaxes when her eyes meet caramel brown ones lined with anxiety.

"Oh Rosie, I didn't see you there honey." She remarks breathlessly, still trying to get over that fit of momentary terror. "How was your day?" Addison tries hopefully.

"Ok," She shrugs before turning her attention back to the papers in front of her.

Addison nods in reply; thinking at least a half-hearted response is better than a bitter sounding one. She then fishes a wine glass out of the top cabinet before scouring the inside of the refrigerator for an already open bottle of red wine. The drink swishes against the bottom of her glass and Addison swirls it around in the air in front of her nose momentarily. She takes a sip, the bottle, and turns to leave her daughter alone when something unexpected happens.

"Mom?" The teenager pipes up hesitantly.

Addison instantly halts and pivots to face her daughter, "Yes, sweetheart?"

She notices the inward wrestling of thoughts, as if there's something Rosie wants to say but the words can't come easily. Her lips contort to the side of her face and she rolls her teeth against the bottom half uncertainly. Brown sugar eyes light up and fade several times in succession until the young girl finally decides to take a leap and say what is on her mind. "I got accepted into Pacific Northwest," A nervous smile crosses her mouth and she laughs softly at herself before dipping her face to the floor.

In this instant, Addison feels like she's glancing into a mirror. A younger version of herself telling Bizzy of a fantastic accomplishment that awards recognition now sits cross-legged in her living room, and she seeks to correct the mistakes her mother made.

"What? Sweetheart that's fantastic!" She bubbles over with excitement.

Rosie's face lifts back up again and relief washes away any anxieties that may have formerly plagued her.

Addison deposits the half full wine glass and bottle on the counter and beckons her forward. "Come here," She opens her arms, walking to the edge of the step separating living room and kitchen. Rosie meets her halfway and hugs onto her middle. The seventeen year old feels the pressure of her mother's lips at the top of her head and squeezes tighter.

After the allotted amount of time passes, Addison tugs back on her shoulders and beams brightly at her daughter. "I am so happy for you," She tells her, patting Rosie's cheek reassuringly.

"Thanks," The girl with long raven hair shrugs with a slight smile.

Addison takes her hands and then says, "Now tell me everything about Pacific Northwest again."

"Well," Rosie thinks of a good place to begin, "it's known for having some of the tallest dancers in the country, and the training facilities are state of the art. And it's close by…so you and Dad don't have to fly me across the entire country. It's just in Seattle."

Addison feels her heart tugging back in that forbidden direction again, but forces herself to focus on what Rosie is saying about how this will afford her to pursue an actual career doing what she loves most.

* * *

><p>He stands on the back deck of their house, watching the city lights twinkle against the blackness of the midnight sky. If it weren't for the distinct buildings in the distance, he could be living on the outskirts of any major city. Sometimes he pretends it's the city where he first fell in love, other times he accepts it for the place where he found his wife. Whatever place he's imagining, he's made a nightly routine of admiring the skyline with a cigarette balanced carefully between two fingers.<p>

It was an old habit, one he's suddenly brought back from his medical school days. He's not necessarily proud of it now that he is a father and a role model to a lost teenage girl and an insightful little boy. But it's his mistake; one he hopes doesn't make him sound like too much of a hypocrite in the eyes of his children. His wife isn't too pleased with this decision, forcing him into a cleansing ritual before bed each night that makes him itch for another. However flawed he might be, there are pieces of him that still love her after all these years. So he complies with these meager requests she makes, hoping it'll be enough.

He hears the door slide open, jumps slightly and turns his head to see the lovely redhead leaning against the doorframe. Her silk robe trails open in the breeze, her lips pouting as if suggesting she misses him more than he misses his alone time.

"You coming up soon?" She wonders lightly, drumming her fingers against the frame of the door.

Mark breathes out tendrils of white smoke, nodding his head. "Yeah just give me ten more minutes."

She offers a soft smile before sliding the door back into place, leaving him alone to his thoughts. And even though it isn't the safest place for him to be, he stares out at the millions of glowing pinpricks of light and imagines maybe someday that might change.

* * *

><p>Their skills as a parental unit are tested whenever both of them become aware that Rosie's love for dance outweighs her academic drive. It's an issue both of them remain divided on after weeks of heated debates sprang up in the household. Addison rules in favor for allowing Rosie to take a chance that her mother would shoot her dead for even considering. While Jake rules that going to college should be his daughter's primary focus. The verdicts are surprising, even to one another. Given Addison's prestigious academic career, Jake assumed she would back him on this decision. And given his deterrence from college for a few years, she thought he wouldn't mind their daughter doing the same.<p>

"Oh come on, Jake. She'll never know if we don't let her try," Addison reasons, crawling over to his side of the bed and wrapping her legs behind him. Her hands reach up to knead the tightness in his shoulders she can see building as he's losing ground on the issue.

He jerks away from her hands and stands. Running a hand through his hair he begins pacing along the length of their bed. "This isn't right. You know it's not right. Not for our daughter."

She gapes at him and scrunches her brow; "It makes her happy."

"Yeah right now it makes her happy," He rounds on her and asks pointedly. "But what about fifteen years from now when she can barely sit up straight or needs a knee replacement? How happy do you think she'll be then, Addison?"

She rolls her eyes at him and shakes her head slowly. "You know for someone who claims he wants to do everything he can to make his family happy, you sure have a funny way of showing it."

Jake points a hand in her direction and counters, "Well for someone who's had a trust fund their entire life that could pay for five kids to go to college, I don't expect you to understand."

"So try and help me understand," Addison brings her arms out to the side in exasperation. "Because all you've done ever since she found out about this opportunity is tell her she can't go until she finishes college. And any counter argument she's brought up that seems legitimate you've shot down without really even considering it so…" Her voice strains momentarily, fingers catching at the fabric of his gym shorts, "…tell me why you really don't want her to do this."

He stops pacing. Letting out a heavy sigh, he collapses on the bed beside her. His hands run along the top of his thighs before he turns to explain the reasoning behind his resistance. "You know what I went through when my mother died. You know what I had to do in order to ensure my family was taken care of. It wasn't easy, Addison. It was a constant struggle for survival. I know how cruel the world can be to people who don't have enough to get by. And I…" He looks away, "…I just can't let her go through that. I don't want her to know that type of struggle. The reason I worked so hard for everything in my life was for her to be something more. I want her to have more than I ever could have. And she's not going to have that if she chooses to be a dancer in Seattle, instead of a pre-med student at Stanford."

"Jake, she's not a little girl anymore," Addison places a hand in his lap, her voice smooth as she continues. "We can't protect her from the realities of the real world anymore. If we deny her the right to follow her dreams, not only will she be miserable but she'll also resent us. And I will not have Rosie hating me like I hated my own mother."

"Yeah well, your mother just wanted what was best for you. And you turned out brilliantly."

"Well I was lucky enough that what was best for me, actually made me happy. She's not going to be happy in school. Not now. Not if we force her to go there. She won't excel." Addison squeezes his thigh, leaning forward in an effort to capture his gaze.

He looks back into her emerald eyes full of insistence. After a few seconds of silent communication he nods and replies solemnly, "You're right. I hate to admit it, but you are."

"Of course I am," She winks at him.

He chuckles in amusement at her and nudges her shoulder playfully, which in turn causes her to nudge him back. "Come here," Jake growls while grabbing both of her shoulders and pinning her back down on the bed.

"Oh!" She giggles as they tumble back against the sheets. "What are you doing?" But they don't have much else to say whenever he silences her with his lips.

* * *

><p>He's been working longer hours more frequently, and she's beginning to take notice. She brings it up in arguments how their five year old doesn't understand why Daddy isn't home as much as he used to be. And he starts wondering if it's because he loves Sofia more or if it's something he did to make Daddy angry. That's when Mark begins to notice how much he's pulled away from those who care about him most. He sees how much it hurts them, and he knows he needs to make more of an effort because they've been more than patient with him.<p>

So he picks five-year-old Caleb up early from daycare one afternoon, and feels his whole world light up when the little boy with strawberry blonde hair bounds across the parking lot with arms outstretched in celebration. The enthusiasm is infectious to the point where Mark chases after him, hoists his son over his shoulder, and spins him around three times fast.

"Daddy whoa! I can see straight," He whines with a goofy, gaped tooth grin.

"Well it's a good thing your Mom's an eye doctor," Mark teases as he fastens him into the car seat, ruffling his hair. "She'll be able to fix your crazy eye for you."

He giggles at this and sticks his tongue out in mock defiance before the car pulls away from the hospital, and in the direction of the park. After several minutes they finally arrive and find a free patch of land to play catch on. Mark fits him for a glove, shows him where to put his fingers on the baseball, and simulates a follow through motion for him. It takes Caleb a few tries until the ball actually goes anywhere. But when it flies through the air for at least a foot he cheers excitedly, Mark chuckles and rushes towards him with a palm lifted in the air for a high five.

"Good job buddy!" He pats him on the shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly.

"It went _this_ far, Daddy!" Caleb resounds while spreading his arms as wide as they go to emphasis the distance as best as he can.

Mark cracks a grin and nods, "Yeah, you're a real natural, kid."

They keep up this same level of energy for at least a half hour, and then it's obvious Caleb's growing increasingly bored, so Mark suggests they head home. On the car ride home, Caleb chats animatedly about how awesome it was to get to play ball with his Daddy because Mommy tried to show him but isn't a very good teacher. Mark assures his son they can make it a regular thing because guy time is important.

As they step into the door, Julia is already cooking something that smells heavenly. Caleb rushes to her side, nearly knocking her down as he runs into her legs. "Mommy, Mommy we played catch!"

"I can see that," She notes with a playful smile as the dirt and grime is evident over her son's face and clothes. "Why don't you go upstairs and take a bath real quick?"

The dislike for his mother's suggestion crosses his face and he's about to whine and mope about how he doesn't need a bath.

But Mark steps in to avoid any further conflict, "Come on Caleb, you better do as your mother says." He stoops down to mutter in his ear, "We can't go out for ice cream later if you aren't clean."

The little boy's face lights up at the suggestion and he takes off in the direction of the stairs.

Julia chuckles in amusement, shaking her head slowly while stirring something in a pot.

He steps forward and wraps his arms around her waist, chin resting on top of her shoulder. "What are you making?"

A smile finds its way to her lips, "Spaghetti with homemade meatballs."

Mark plants a chaste kiss at her cheek before nibbling on her earlobe, "Jesus, I don't know how you find time to do everything that you do."

She shies away from his touch and tells him with a despondent sigh, "Well I haven't had to take care of my husband in quite sometime, you know?"

Mark leans against the counter so he can look more directly at her face, "I'm sorry Jules. I know I've been working a lot more lately, it's just with Avery's residency coming to a close and this clinical trial…things have been kind of hectic."

His wife nods mutely as if pretending to understand.

"Hey," He reaches for her shoulder, forcing her pale sea green eyes to meet his, "things are going to lighten up for me soon. I promise." He waits until she seems to agree with his words before fishing two slips of paper from his back pocket, "So someone gave these to me because I mentioned my wife has a thing for art. And I've been a poor excuse of a husband lately so I mentioned something about wanting to throw her a romantic weekend getaway."

Julia glances up from the pot interestedly, snatches the tickets from his hand, and bubbles over with excitement. "These are tickets to see Pacific Northwest's Cinderella?"

"Uh-huh," Mark nods with a sheepish grin.

"Oh my God, Mark! We're going to the ballet?"

"Yeah," He confirms. "And then we're going to stay in downtown Seattle for the evening in one of the most expensive hotels."

She jumps into his arms out of excitement and plants a soft kiss against his lips. He smiles back at her, feeling good about making her happy for once despite the circumstances of how he's achieved it.

* * *

><p>Addison sits on a bench in the reception area of the theater, sipping a glass of white wine while flipping through the pages of her program until she sees her daughter's headshot and brief biography amongst the other professionals in the company. It's surreal to have a celebrity of some sort in the family, and her heart races with nothing short of pride.<p>

After a few moments alone, she feels a warm hand rustling the fabric of her royal blue wrap dress at the curve of her back. A pair of lips presses against the sensitive spot behind her ear, and his warm breath lingers in a manner that creates chills to run up and down her arms.

A teasing smile splits her plum stained lips, "You know you really shouldn't do that. My husband will be back from the restroom any second."

"Oh I'm sure he won't mind," He mutters softly while strumming a loose curl away from her face.

Addison nearly forgets to breathe as his fingers sensually trace along her skin that's bare. She manages a nervous laugh before turning her face to meet his, "I'm sure he would have something to say about it."

"No, he wouldn't." He assures her with widened eyes full of longing. His eyes flit down to her supple lips and then back up to her emerald eyes as they slowly lean in for a soft, meaningful kiss.

"Well if he doesn't, I'm sure his daughter will."

Addison and Jake break apart at the sudden interruption by Angie, whose fingers are interlaced with her newly serious boyfriend, Frank. The redhead covers her mouth with her hand out of embarrassment at her less than modest behavior. Jake licks his lips and offers a sheepish grin up at his daughter.

"Can you two go more than ten minutes without wanting to go at it?" Angie taunts with a disapproving smirk at how her parental figures act more like horny teenagers than their own age.

"Well I think we did pretty good throughout the entire first Act," Jake replies somewhat defensively, "and that was close to forty-five minutes of me staring at your stepmother's thighs without-"

Addison smacks his shoulder, "Jake!"

"Yeah seriously, Dad?" Angie groans in horror of him relaying such intimate information in front of her and her boyfriend, who's only just met the family. "Do you really have to say things like that?"

"No," Jake deadpans, "but I like torturing you. It's fun."

Angie shakes her head slowly and then turns to Addison, "Is he always like this?"

The redhead smiles up at her stepdaughter with similar exhaustion at Jake's antics. "Not usually. But I think he likes to show off when you're around."

"Hey," Jake nudges his wife in the ribs, effectively hitting her most ticklish places.

She giggles softly, and when she can no longer restrain him from tickling her, Addison stands to get away from him, "Come on Ang, Frank, let's go get something to drink."

Jake gapes at her momentarily, but when she turns to wink at him, he takes this as her cue to follow them over to the bar. What he fails to notice is the fleeting moment of anxiety that crosses her face when a pair of saddened jade green eyes finds hers across the room.

* * *

><p>He swears he saw her during the first intermission, sitting by herself with a glass of white wine carefully cradled in the palm of her hand. Her royal blue wrap dress fell a few inches above her knees, hair lightly curled and half pulled back in a circular gold clip he remembers tugging from her auburn waves before crushing her mouth with his.<p>

But his memories of a passionate love affair are soon dashed when a man with olive skin and a dazzling smile enters the scene. His hand rests so easily at her back. The yellow gold wedding band catching the light and reminding Mark what he's forgotten anytime he's fantasized about the redheaded woman that he loves. He watches them kiss and tease one another, a pang of jealousy striking deep within his heart.

He downs the rest of his jack and coke, standing to leave the scene without interfering. As he stops at the top of the steps, their eyes accidentally meet through the many people filing past them in the spacious room. He swears he notices her lips tug up at the corners, but their eye contact is broken when her husband crosses in front of her.

"Hey, there you are," Comes Julia's sweet voice. She tugs on her husband's arm, he readily turns to face her. She cocks her head to the side and remarks curiously, "I thought you went out for a smoke."

"I did but…it's raining," He offers as a weak excuse. "You want to get a drink?"

She slips her arm through his and taunts, "Are you trying to get me drunk?"

"Maybe," He quips in return, which causes her to throw back her head and giggle. Mark turns his face back over his shoulder; only to discover the redhead in the blue dress is gone.

* * *

><p>She waits anxiously in the woman's bathroom of the restaurant. She wonders if he was serious when he asked her to come here. As time ticks onward, she grows more anxious. She's starting to think this was all part of a sick joke on his part. Asking her to procure two tickets to the ballet, arranging a seemingly chance meeting at a restaurant where her family would be, and then sending her a text that if they wanted to tear one off for old times sake, to meet her in the bathroom.<p>

Her heart hammers nervously beneath her chest, blood pumping fiercely throughout her ears so she can barely hear the creak of the door open behind her. If it weren't for the mirror, she'd whirl around to face whoever was intruding, but all it takes is a fixated gaze on his reflected form to set her unusually at ease.

"You can't be here," He tells her gruffly.

Her heartbeat quickens and she wonders if it will actually explode inside of her chest. Gripping the countertop, she tries to turn to face him without completely becoming unhinged. But it's rather difficult when they're confronted with the mounting sexual tension that's been present since his visit in L.A. She lifts a brow at him, perplexed by his words.

"I have a wife. A family." He reminds her in clipped tones, his breathing labored and a sign of pure outrage written across his face.

Addison rakes her teeth over her bottom lip and frowns up at him remorsefully, "You asked to me come."

He stands at the opposite end of the stall, not taking his hand off the doorknob as if he can easily escape this situation they've found themselves in. Clearly her showing up surprised him, especially after he witnessed her earlier happiness with her new family. "Why did you?" He demands, the edges of his eyes brimming with liquid as conflicted feelings of anger, desire, and guilt consume him.

It takes everything in her power to remain with her lower back pressed against the sink counter and not rush into his arms. She wants to tell him she needs to be with him one last time before she can leave, but somehow she fears she won't be able to override the guilt that will surely kill her.

Addison slowly crosses the room, the sound of her heels reverberating against the four walls of the bathroom. "Because you asked me to," She mumbles softly, the outline of his figure distorting more as large tears fill her eyes.

Her hand brushes the side of his face. Her thumb feels the prickling of his half grown in beard before traveling to the center of his mouth, tracing the fullness of his slightly parted lips. He bites down, causing her to gasp and retract her hand.

With widened deep blue eyes, she tries to search his face for answers to what they can and can't do. Because what they already know what they should and shouldn't do, so that question doesn't need to be reminded.

Lifting herself up tiptoe she gives into her less crippling desires and plants a chaste kiss against his jaw. "Bye Mark," She breathes hotly, the outline of his body blurry through her cloudy vision.

Addison turns to leave him, but is caught when his hand encircles her arm and forces her back to him. He drinks in her lips in a desperate attempt to feel her one last time. Their teeth painfully clink together. His tongue pries apart her stubborn mouth and meets with hers. Her hands claw at the sides of his face, forcing him closer than is possible. His hands easily slip under the loose fabric of her skirt, digging his hips against hers. She groans as his erection presses against her panties. His fingers are slipping underneath the waistband of the lace, and suddenly her hands grab his and she bows her head forward to break contact with him.

"Mark, we can't." She warns him sharply, terrified of how easily she responded to his kiss. Her head falls forward against the hollow of his throat. She tries to regulate her breathing by biting on the knot his tie.

He releases his hold on her waist, but notices the glint of gold from the hairclip. As her face remains buried in his chest, Mark releases the clamp and pulls it out of her red hair. He tosses it against the floor and threads his fingers through her tresses until her face is forced back to look into his. "Tell me to stop," He urges her, slowly inching his mouth back to hers.

Just before he can capture her lips with his, she whimpers, "Stop."

His jade eyes meet hers, full of fear, regret, and sorrow. Mark's heart begins to ache when he realizes how impossible it is for them, no matter how possible they make it. They'll only end up destroying one another like they always have. So he frees his hand from her hair and turns away from her with a downcast expression.

"Mark I-" She tries to explain. She tries to follow him, and wrap her arms over his shoulders.

"Goodbye Addison," He barks harshly, causing her to jump at the finality in his words. His shoulders are hunched over slightly and he squeezes his eyes shut to hide how truly broken he is.

She knows this is the last time she'll see him. They can't keep trying to force their way into the others life because he wouldn't fit in her world anymore than she would fit into his. Sometimes all that is left is the goodbye, and in their case maybe it's better left this way.


End file.
